


Heartstrings

by Moontune



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: F/M, M/M, Short One Shot, reader is gender-neutral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontune/pseuds/Moontune
Summary: Every day, the same strange thing happens...





	Heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> Took a quick break from requests and the current series I'm working on to write this. It's currently past midnight and I have no intention to re-read or edit this. Sorry if it's a bit jumbled, I'm tired and Norman Polk deserves more love
> 
> **The content of this story was written by AO3 user Moontune (@moon--toon on Tumblr) for non-profit consumption. Please do not share to other media platforms or view through unofficial reader applications - _especially for-profit platforms and applications._**

Norman sighed softly as he watched the band from his projector booth, playing their tunes with Sammy’s lead. The band had been at this particular song for days now – it was a tricky one to play, and even though Sammy suggested he adjust it a bit to make it somewhat easier, Joey insisted on keeping it as it was.

 

Glancing over to his projector briefly, he listened as the song then came to a close. It wasn’t a particularly fast or upbeat tune; it was more calm and soothing if anything. It was meant to be played in an Alice Angel cartoon, though Norman didn’t care enough to know the details of said cartoon.

 

“Alright, not bad,” Sammy spoke up once all the instruments were silenced. “We should be good to record now. Go have lunch, and meet up back here.”

 

At that, everyone set their instruments down on their chairs, and stood up to leave for their break. None of them paid any attention to you though, as you remained behind in your seat, watching as they all left. You were quiet and calm, holding yourself with a sense of passiveness that made you easy to miss.

 

But Norman could never miss you.

 

Smiling softly, he knew what was coming next. You had been doing the same thing every day for weeks – at least, that was when Norman had caught on. As far as he knew, you could have very well been doing this since the day you were hired.

 

Leaning onto the wooden rail of the balcony above, Norman propped his elbow up and rested his chin in the palm of his hand as he watched you sit up and begin to play your harp.

 

To him, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Your hands glided over the strings, plucking at them with all the grace and elegance of an angel. The entrancing melody echoed delicately through the band room, and his mind lingered on every note he heard.

 

He had no idea why you did this. At first, he figured you were just practicing for the sake of developing your own skill. But with each passing day, he slowly realised that he failed to ever hear a single faulty note. A wrong chord, a missed beat… Norman heard none of it.

 

It was strange. _You_ were strange – there was no doubting that. But there were many other strange things in this studio, so despite being strange, you weren’t quite out of the ordinary here.

 

He could ask, yes. And yet, at the same time, he never felt the need to. It wasn’t his business to know the reasons behind the things you did, after all.

 

As he listened to your soothing tune, Norman then decided that he didn’t care why you did what you did. You weren’t bothering or harming anyone, least of all him.

 

Quite the opposite, in fact.

 

Humming contently, Norman let his focus drift from your delicate hands and up your arms. You wore a long-sleeved shirt today, as you always tended to. This time, however, they were rolled up to your elbow, exposing the soft skin on your forearms.

 

He could see the way your muscles moved underneath, flexing slightly when you plucked a string and played a note. It was oddly fascinating to him, in a way he couldn’t possibly bring himself to explain.

 

His eyes travelled up further, carefully tracing the nook between your shoulder and neck as his gaze landed on your face.

 

And by god, the expression you wore caused his heart to skip a beat.

 

You were completely calm, eyes closing every so often before opening again to focus on your task at hand. A tuft of soft hair fell down into your face, but you paid it no mind as you continued to play. Your focus was unwavering, and Norman was certain that nothing could possibly faze or distract you.

 

Closing his own eyes, Norman swayed along to your song.

 

He never wanted it to end. To him, the songs you played were the most beautiful he ever heard. If possible, he could listen to you play for days on end.

 

And while yes, there would be an inevitable end to your song, Norman didn’t mind. He knew he would hear you play again the very next day. And the next day. And the next… It was a routine by now – a routine that brought Norman comfort even on his most stressful work days.

 

To Norman, you helped keep his work bearable. While Sammy’s songs were all good and well, it was your playing that truly made his day that much better. No matter what, he would never get tired of listening to you play. No matter what, he would never miss a single one of your “afternoon performances.”

 

To him, Alice wasn’t the only angel in this studio.


End file.
